


Skin on Skin

by kentucka



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Massage, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-03
Updated: 2007-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kentucka/pseuds/kentucka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>John writhed beneath him, no more than an unconscious shift of his hips that betrayed his need, but mostly he was content to lie there and let himself be seen and touched.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin on Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from a Queens of the Stone Age song, whose slow/dirty music was my soundtrack while writing this.

Wide planes of smooth skin stretched out before him, the color of desert sand it had seen so often, glittering with a hint of gold. It was soft, but covering unyielding bone and muscle, forming the body of a damned fine specimen, one of nature’s wonders of beauty, carelessly heaped all into one man, when others missed out dearly. Rodney’s heart thumped harder, like every time he caught sight of him… of _Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard_ in his tactical gear, ready to kick ass, of _Sheppard_ in what passed for a uniform in Atlantis, discussing supply requests to forward to Earth with Dr. Weir, or of _John_ sprawled out in a chair in mess hall, sucking down the juices of an apple and sharing jokes with his team. But Rodney was never more aware of John’s perfection than when they were together, alone.

It hadn’t made sense, in the beginning, the way John had constantly sought his company; Rodney knew that he could be difficult, but most of the time he simply couldn’t stand the mental drag of being around people who couldn’t keep up with him, and he found it easier to drive them away with his biting sarcasm, finally being able to get some work done. For a long while, Rodney had thought that John was just trying to give this member of his team the benefit of the doubt, forming his own opinion instead of judging by the rumors that had silently tagged along through the Stargate. Even as they grew familiar and their friendship deepened -- John being a math geek at heart helped a lot, as well as their shared weakness for sweets and action movies -- and John became more bold, it still had taken Rodney days to understand that John’s suggestions to ‘get together’ weren’t merely platonic. Much longer until he believed that it wasn’t a joke on his expense or a dare, their first kiss not an accident, the whole thing not just a phase John went through because of homesickness, the sex more than a pity fuck.

It had taken embarrassingly long, and Rodney wondered if his self-confidence was really that shot. He’d had good relationships with women, smart and pretty, but John… was a whole different league, the poster boy of a presumably straight military man, a pilot, a fighter, a survivor. Rodney would never tire of watching John, his lover, thinking of him as such and knowing that John probably did the same.

John writhed beneath him, no more than an unconscious shift of his hips that betrayed his need, but mostly he was content to lie there and let himself be seen and touched.

A single of Rodney’s fingers ran down the center of John’s chest, feeling the slightly uneven bone. The finger left a darker line on skin otherwise gleaming with perspiration, and Rodney smiled, rerouting to write his name over John’s pecs.

“You’re mine now,” Rodney stated unnecessarily, because they’d had this conversation already. He’d aimed at possessive, but to his own ears it had been slightly off, whiny like a kid with its favorite toy ( _‘No, it’s mine, you don’t get to play with it because I don’t share!’_ ), and it struck John as funny too. His chuckle crooked the Y into something that looked like the thunderbolt on a ‘Caution - high voltage’ sign.  
Just as well, Rodney thought. Tonight was about handling John with extra special care.

He felt hands sliding up his thighs where he knelt, comfortably sitting atop John’s upper legs.  
“Something you want, John?” Rodney asked with a knowing grin, but again, John didn’t answer with words. Only his back arched a little into Rodney’s petting hand, which wiped away sweat and most of his name.

Swatting against John’s side, Rodney urged him to roll over. John stretched almost cat-like -- oh God, did he miss his cat sometimes, but this was _not_ one of those times -- and thrust lazily into the mattress before settling down. His fingers kept kneading at the pillow, and if not for the anticipatory hitch of his breathing, Rodney could have believed he’d fallen right asleep.

His palms rubbed down warm skin, thumbs pushing in lightly below the shoulder blades, where the center of tension usually was. Rodney smiled to himself when John gave a pleased purr, seeing his theory of the existence of reincarnation proven true, because there was no way that John hadn’t been a cat in his previous life - or maybe a leopard. Yes, a spotted leopard, Rodney decided, while he kept idly working out various kinks.

Shoulders and shoulder blades, and the muscles and tendons connecting them were always the worst. One fiber after the other, they caved in to Rodney’s talented fingers. Next, he started on the powerful cords to both sides of John’s spine, pressing and pushing, and when Rodney dug his fingers in between vertebrae and muscle, John let out a throaty moan that sent a hot shiver up Rodney’s back, leaving his limbs tingling.

Rodney shifted forward, his cock rubbing along John’s cleft, and when he pulled back, John’s hips rose, encouraging him to continue. John’s hands had stopped their kneading; instead they were clutching the sheets, and he didn’t even try to muffle his panting or the occasional moan by turning his face into the pillow.

Persuaded, Rodney leaned forward as far as he could while still supporting his own weight on one elbow, thrusting harder in the now-established rhythm they had going, and petted John with his free hand everywhere he could reach: elbows to shoulders, over bulging biceps, ticklish sides that made John squirm, over the small of John’s back. He cupped those perfect ass-cheeks, parting them to slide his cock along, teasing them both with what would come later, but right now Rodney could feel in the tremors of John’s straining muscles that they wouldn’t need much more.

He let his nose run down the valley of John’s spine and back up to his neck, licking skin and sweat every so often.  
“You taste wonderful when you’re close,” Rodney confided hotly, tongue flicking against John’s earlobe as if to solidify the statement. John groaned, and Rodney finally took pity on the man, seeing how he kept rocking his hips backwards into Rodney’s, and forward into the dry-slick friction of silk sheets.  
Those are going to be ruined, Rodney thought with a smile, and his thumbs resumed their massaging.

When he reached the small of John’s back again, he couldn’t keep either of them waiting any longer. Two thumbs dug into John’s sweet spot, right next to his spine, where the hollow of its S-curve was the deepest. John keened, and came in an instant, body going rigid for several seconds.  
Rodney slumped over, skin to skin from arms to legs, as much contact as was possible while maintaining the leverage to ride the crease of John’s ass, slippery with both their sweat and Rodney’s precome.

Slowly, John relaxed, melting into the mattress, and turned his head further towards Rodney, looking over his shoulder. Their lips met in a kiss, awkward from Rodney’s frantic movement, but it was perfect, teeth and tongue and caring.

*

Exhausted, John enjoyed the heavy weight of his limbs and the lightness of his mind.  
His ankle throbbed lightly where he had sprained it on the off-world mission, but the rest of his muscles buzzed like after a thorough warm-up, drowning out the pain most effectively. He could still feel the small electric currents in his spine and in his fingertips, reminders of recent bliss, and let them bring on dreams of flying a hang glider through thermals, staying airborne for hours.


End file.
